Alex Rider Slip-Ups
by Horsegirl163591
Summary: A series of short stories/drabbles of slip-ups in Alex's life. NOTE: Stories are post Scorpia Rising.
1. Biology

**Alex Rider Slip-Ups**

* * *

Hello,

This is my first FanFic, so be kind :P

I have another, longer fic in the mill at the moment, and this may or may not end up being part of it, but I thought I'd post it anyway.

This is set after Scorpia Rising, so if you haven't read the final book, the name referencing may not make sense (although change Pleasure to Rider and it will...)

Apart form that, ENJOY! :)

* * *

** I**n Lab B of San Francisco Private High a boy sat staring blankly out of the window, barely paying attention to his Biology teacher as he drearily lectured his class about the human nervous system. Normally prone to paying close attention in class, the boy found himself inexplicably bored; this particular topic was one he had covered comprehensively already and he honestly found the blue summer sky a more interesting view. His teacher, however, did not share this view, and, irritated, called on him sharply.

"Mr Pleasure, would you kindly tell the class about the pressure points of the human nervous system." This, of course, was a trick question as it had not yet been covered in class, but the boy, having tuned out completely, wasn't to know this.

"Of course Mr Ryan" the boy replied smoothly, instantly snapping his focus back to the class. "There are several types of pressure points - each is applied differently and each creates a different effect. 'Pain points', for example, use tendons, ligaments, and muscles - the goal is to temporarily immobilize the target, or, at the very least, to distract them. Reflex points produce involuntary movements; for example, causing the hand to release its grip, the knees to buckle, the target to gag, or even for the person to be knocked unconscious. Most pressure points are located on pathways on the nervous system."

He drew a breath to further explain, but upon noticing the entire room's slack-jawed gazes he flushed slightly and sat down, silently berating himself for such an obvious slip-up. Mr Ryan – who had been extremely shocked to hear his student (admittedly one of his best) deliver such a matter-of-fact, detailed explanation in what could only be described as a slightly bored tone – hesitantly thanked the boy and resumed his lesson in an astounded daze.


	2. Staffroom Comfort

**Staffroom Comfort**

* * *

**This is a continuation of the last chapter... poor Mr Ryan :P**

* * *

It was 12:45 – the lunch break of San Francisco Private High – and Mr Hugo Ryan had just entered the staffroom on shaking legs, hastily grabbed a coffee and slumped deep into a cushioned armchair. Now, Hugo Ryan was normally a very self-possessed and composed man; he was a teacher of science, of hard facts and logic. But today… today logic didn't seem to be his kindest friend.

His fellow teachers looked across curiously at the shaken figure of their colleague, but one look at his slightly-too-round eyes dissuaded them from prying. Mrs Samantha Timmons, long-time friend of Hugo Ryan and friendly ear to any harrowed teacher, carefully approached and sat in the chair opposite, staring worriedly.

"Hugo… are you alright?" she asked quietly, quite unsure as how to proceed with such out-of-character behaviour. He jumped, having been previously unaware of her approach, and the seemed to latch onto her words with an intensity rarely seen in the droll professor.

"Samantha! Yes, yes… n-no. I don't know…" he fidgeted with clammy fingers, twisting his hands around themselves fervently.

"Why don't you try talking about it?" she soothed, confused. He nodded, and kept nodding as he explained slowly,

"You know the Pleasure boy?"

"Alex? Yes, he's quite a dear; I have him for English. Smart boy, too."

"Smart… yes, yes he's smart… Today… well, he wasn't paying attention in class. So I asked him a question – a trick question – and he answered it!" Samantha Timmons frowned.

"Surely that's a good thing Hugo…?"

"Well, yes, usually it is. But you should have heard him Samantha! I asked him to tell the class about Pressure Points, and he stood up and explained in detail what the two subsections do to a person to incapacitate them, all in a bored – no, more like _practiced_ – voice and then sat back down!" he ended the last on a squeak, and looked at Mrs Timmons with wide eyes. "It's not natural Samantha, is it?" Although herself slightly taken aback at Alex's newfound knowledge, Mrs Timmons smiled reassuringly at her colleague.

"Hugo, he probably just read it on the internet somewhere." But Hugo Ryan was shaking his head.

"No, no he… it was like he'd done that before – like he was used to being asked surprise questions on things like that." Mrs Timmons continued to utter reassurances to her highly distressed friend, and Mr Ryan continued to deny them utterly.

Outside the staffroom, one Alex Pleasure, née Rider, slunk away from his position at the door, a guilty frown on his face. _Damn!_ He thought as he padded down the corridor, _I really need to concentrate more!_ Then a small smile flickered briefly across his face, before he allowed it to become a fully-fledged grin. _Poor Mr Ryan, though… this just isn't his day._

* * *

**_NOTE: Most of my stories will be post-Scorpia Rising, as that is the context of my longer fic and where my head is at.  
_**

**_Thanks :)_**


	3. Gym

**Gym**

* * *

**This will probably be my last update in a while, as (sigh) I have homework that I ****_really_**** need to do... :)**

* * *

"Alright class, listen up!" Mr Hopkins shouted over the astoundingly loud group of teenagers gathered near the entrance to the gym. They quieted immediately, not wanting to incur his legendary wrath. "Today I have a surprise for you!" he grinned (slightly manically one might observe) and only the reluctance to become acquainted with said wrath stopped the entire class from groaning as one – Mr Hopkins' surprises were also of legendary status. "Today" he chuckled, "you will be doing a little obstacle course. There is a time limit, so yes; you will have to run it." He stepped back to allow the reluctant students to peer into the gym with trepidation.

There was nothing _little _about it!

The inside of the gymnasium was littered with hoops, tires, ropes, hurdles; there was even a huge climbing wall right at (what they assumed was, as it looped back and forth more than an angry snake) the end of the course. There were gasps and mutters of disbelief, even more so as Mr Hopkins went on to explain the layout of the course and the time limit that was their goal.

At the back of the group, one boy was especially nervous. Not because he thought he couldn't make it; oh contraire, he _knew_ he could make it. That was the problem. Why? Because he _shouldn't_ be able to make it. Alex gulped and looked to his right, where his friend and adoptive sister, Sabina, was peering intently at him. Seeing his desperate expression, and knowing just how hard he had been battling to cope over the past couple of weeks, she took pity on him.

"Alex…" she whispered, sidling closer to him, "go on; show 'em what you've got!" He looked at her in surprise, knowing full-well this was not something she normally approved of, but then understanding flashed in his eyes and he gave her a wide grin.

Throughout their conversation, the rest of the class had been struggling over the (to them) nigh impossible course, and now, minutes before the bell, they were the only two to go. Alex approached the start slightly apprehensively, knowing what he was about to do was _very_ reckless, but then decided he just didn't care.

He took off at a full sprint, dodging and weaving through hoops and tires, flying over hurdles, climbing up the rope ladder and swinging skilfully across the portable monkey-bars. He dropped and flung himself through a hanging hoop, rolling on landing and springing instantly to his feet before sprinting towards the wall – his last obstacle. He took a flying jump, grabbing the top with the tips of his fingers and pulling himself swiftly up and over, falling the whole distance down and landing in a crouch, from which he launched himself to sprint the last couple of feet to the 'finish line'.

Alex stood up, panting only slightly, and saw his entire class facing him with slack-jawed amazement written clear across their faces. Mr Hopkins had dropped his clipboard and was breathing slightly heavily. In fact – Alex noted absently – he looked like he was going into shock. He grinned widely, winking at his teacher and smirking at Sabina's half-exasperated, half-smug expression, before turning gracefully on his heel and sauntering out of the gym.

* * *

**Thanks for the supportive reviews guys! :)**


	4. Philosophy in English

**Philosophy in English**

* * *

**Sorry for not updating sooner; 'been busy!**

* * *

Mrs Samantha Timmons surveyed her English class as the chatted animatedly with one another at the beginning of the class before calling for order with a smile.

"Today we are going to be doing something a little different. As you know, Remembrance Day is coming up, so I want you all to write me a piece on the Heroes of our country. There is paper up the front here, and I would prefer you to work in silence – or at least relative quiet".

There ensued a loud scraping of chairs as the students each took some paper, talking excitedly about the Army, guns, grenades and other such things. Mrs Timmons noted, however, that one boy – Alex Pleasure – was silent, a small frown on his face as he collected his paper and returned to his seat to stare blankly at his paper. Slowly, and evidently very thoughtfully, he put pen to paper. Soon he was scribbling quickly across the page, and she wondered why he was taking this so seriously; the frown had never left his face. As evidenced by the enthusiasm of the rest of her class, this was a subject that teenagers – boys especially – loved. He continued to write for the remainder of the lesson, appearing to go through several drafts if the crumpled paper near his left elbow was anything to go by.

* * *

Collecting their papers at the end of the class as the students filed out, Mrs Timmons saw that Alex had written much more than his classmates; enough for a small essay! She returned to her desk and settled back, preparing for a long list of papers containing unending enthusiasm and hero-worship. And she was correct; the first fifteen papers were just such acclamation. However, the sixteenth – Alex's paper – was not.

_Many people talk about the Heroes of our world; of Military men who fought valiantly on the front lines for their country, their loved ones, and their values. But are they really heroes? What is the definition of a hero? Why do we call these fighters heroes? Because they protect us; shield us from the evils of the world? _

_Friedrich Nietzsche says "Be careful when you fight the monsters, lest you become one". Any man, no matter what 'side' he is on, can save a life, then turn around and kill another. A country's soldier can easily injure a civilian. Conversely, a contract killer can just as easily save a life as take it. Could we still call this soldier – a man who has served his country well in the heat of battle – a hero if he injures one he is supposed to protect? Could we call the contract killer a hero for saving a life, disregarding his previous kills? Can we really use the excuse 'a means to an end'? Or does that make us as bad as the people we fight?_

_In the end there is no such thing as a hero; it is a label used by the naïve to ensure their world stays comfortably black-and-white. It is an excuse for people who do not want to open their eyes and see the truths hidden in plain sight. The world is made up of actions and consequences; choices and repercussions; of shades of grey. There is no pure goodness, just as there is no pure evil; each person has elements of both inside them, and to disregard one in favour of the other is not only illogical, it is morally wrong. We cannot glorify our citizens as heroes of our country, disregarding what, in a man on the 'other side' of the war, would be condemnable. There is no such thing as a hero, and to persist in this belief is to perpetuate the erroneous cycle of moral ignorance that is a plague on our society today._

Mrs Timmons sat back in her chair, stunned. Never had she read such a succinct, well-written and _contentious_ piece from a student. Re-reading it, she wondered exactly how a boy of nearly sixteen had come to be so enlightened and, she had to admit, cynical. It was astounding, and somewhat unnerving, to realise that a mere schoolboy could provide sufficient evidence and argument in this short piece to undermine one of the founding beliefs of American society. She let out a long breath and closed her eyes, composing herself, before writing shakily at the bottom of the page (no grammar or syntax corrections, simply);

_An interesting viewpoint Alex, well written. A+_


	5. School Excursion 1

**Class Excursion #1**

* * *

**I just wrote this, and decided I wanted to put it up tonight. Thanks to all my lovely reviwers! :)**

* * *

Alex groaned. _I'm doomed,_ he thought, trying to remain inconspicuous at the back of his school group. _Whoever thought this was a good idea must personally have a vendetta against me! But that would require them to actually _know_ about me, _he added bitterly, edging behind Jake Langman in his efforts to remain innocuous.

"Alright, line up, you'll all get to have a go. No pushing Tyler! Now, listen to the safety instructor; this is important!" Mrs Timmons said loudly, breaking momentarily from her calm, kind persona in her irritation. The short, broad man smiled at the eager teens as he produced a case from under a workbench and proceeded to lecture safety and proper handling. Alex groaned, internally this time, staring at the Walther P22 in the man's hand.

_Why did it have to be guns?_ He continued his internal whinging, _it could have been anything, but NO, my fabulous teachers decided that arranging for a bunch of rowdy teens to go to the gun range would be a 'fun and educational' experience! I. AM. DOOMED._ He was jolted out of his thoughts by a light touch on his arm and a whisper in his ear.

"I know what you're thinking. Just pretend to be bad, it can't be that hard." Sabina whispered in his ear, before giving him a small shove in the back towards the waiting instructor. He glanced back at her and, seeing her reassuring nod, sighed. _Oh yes, I'm good a pretending._ He smiled and nodded as the instructor – Bill – went through the proper firing stance, etcetera. _When did I get so pessimistic?_ He picked up the gun, making sure to hold it incorrectly before allowing Bill to adjust his grip. _Right… badly. I just have to misfire… somehow…_ He raised the gun (unsteadily) and focused on a space just to the right of the target before firing. He had to quickly remind himself not to adjust to the kickback, and allowed the gun to flick up in his hand from the force.

He had hit the very edge of the upper fight-hand corner of the target. He grimaced. He acknowledged Bill's 'helpful' comments and tried three more times, allowing himself to get progressively better. Then he relinquished his place to the next eager teen and fled to the back of the group, catching Sabina's smile along the way and letting out a long breath as he did so.

Once the class was finished they left to get lunch in the adjoining café, but Alex lingered a little. He couldn't describe it, but something about the target rolled in is hands – his target – made him feel edgy. He laughed then, figuring it out. _My scores! I just can't stand doing so _badly!Still chuckling to himself, he walked slowly forwards towards the awaiting gun. Bill had left with his classmates to guide them to the café, and there wasn't another group scheduled to come for another ten minutes – he had checked – so he should have privacy.

He took a quick, furtive glance around before picking up the gun and weighing it in his hand as he had not allowed himself to do before. It was well-balanced, slightly nose-heavy, but he remembered it had minimal kickback. Glancing at the fresh target only once, he raised his arm and fired six times. Lowering his arm, he smiled; six bulls-eyes. Replacing the gun exactly as he had found it, he collected his target and swiftly left the room, still smiling contentedly.

From the shadows behind the door, Mrs Timmons emerged in shock. She had come looking for her wayward student, thinking him lost, to find him firing six bulls-eyes with an ease and grace that even the instructor did not have. The image of his English essay flashed into her mind, and she added this to the growing pile of questions about Alex. _Just who exactly is this boy?_'

* * *

**Some general review responses, as I think they're probably things other people will want to know as well:**

**- **There will be fics with more dialogue, but for the most part they are descriptive, as this is more abstract observations about Alex rather than simply one-shots/short stories

- There may be some longer chapters, but they will mostly be this length as this kind of descriptive writing tends to seem _very_ long in longer formats.

- In my longer fic (which these are based on) Alex has been adopted by the Pleasures. Horowitz basically says at the end of Scorpia Rising that they have custodianship and all rights asociated with adoption anyway, so I made it official. Also, losing the name Rider would mean that he was harder to trace for any looking enemies, so it is logical he would do this anyway.

Thanks heaps guys! (And keep reviewing, I've already got some more ideas! :) )


	6. Maths

**Maths**

* * *

**Sorry for not updating sooner, life just kinda got ahead of me!**

**Not as haappy with this one, but what do you guys think?**

* * *

Mr Jonathan Small, maths teacher at San Francisco Private High, finished writing on the whiteboard with a flourish and turned to survey his bored class.

"Probability. This is our next unit, and will count for 20% of your overall grade. Now, this problem" he indicated the board, "is typical of a simple probability question. Can anyone give me the answer straight off?" no one raised their hand. Mr Small grimaced slightly, then proceeded to explain the problem patiently (well, semi-patiently at least). At the end of his explanation he noticed a whispered conversation at the back of the classroom and scowled; he didn't like to be disrespected.

"Something interesting I hope, Mr Thompson, Mr Pleasure?" Jake Thompson hurriedly shook his head, chastised, but Alex Pleasure simply looked up, cocked his head, and then nodded.

"Actually, yes sir, there is." Jake groaned beside his friend, nudging him in the ribs as Mr Small's eyes narrowed, but Alex ignored him.

"Well then, why don't you enlighten us, Alex?" he asked in a falsely sweet voice, face twisted into a half-grimace, half-smile.

"Well, I was just saying to Jake that I don't like probability in maths; it's too clean."

"And what, exactly, do you mean by that?" His voice had taken on a harder edge and the class, recognising the danger signs, looked on in awed horror, watching the proceedings with heads swinging back and forth like tennis spectators. No one ever dared disrespect Mr Small; his anger was phenomenally scary.

"Well, in real life, there are a myriad of other factors that can influence the probability of something; maths doesn't take that into consideration these other factors, and as such it really can't be considered comprehensive study." Mr Small ground his teeth together in irritation, unwilling to acknowledge the logic in this.

"Thank you, Mr Pleasure" he forced out, before turning to the board and writing up another problem. Then he had a thought; a way to deal with the precocious teen. "Actually Mr Pleasure, since you seem to have some small grasp on this concept, why don't you come up here and solve this problem?" He expected him to shrink back in his seat and shake his head – or at least walk hesitantly up and stand awkwardly at the board before admitting he couldn't do it, whereupon he would loudly proclaim that the teen had no authority on the subject and to return to his seat _immediately_. What he did _not_ expect was for the teen to stand fluidly and confidently stride up to the board, grab a marker and jot out a few calculations before drawing a square around his final answer. He also did not expect the star-marked footnote that detailed all of the extraneous variables within the specified situation that could impact upon the probability.

He (and the rest of the class) stared, gobsmacked, at the board as Alex returned gracefully to his seat, a small smile – not a smirk – on his face. _I really shouldn't have done that_ Alex though ruefully, ignoring the continued stares from his classmates, _but he was just being such an arrogant… _He sighed and returned his attention to the front – where Mr Small had recovered and apparently decided to now ignore his troublesome student completely – and resigned himself to a boring remainder to the lesson.

* * *

**Well there it is... Thanks for the reviews guys!**


	7. Medical Maladies

**Medical Maladies**

* * *

**Another one tonight as an apology for not updating in a while. I'm going to try to post one a day from now on, but I can't make any promises... life just seems to get in the way sometimes...**

**This one's a long one, hope you enjoy! :)**

* * *

_Great day for it_… Alex thought as he sloshed across the soccer field after the muddy ball. It was raining, and had been raining all day; the water coming down in sheets that instantly drenched any poor pedestrian bereft of an umbrella. But despite the torrential downpour, the team's coach - icidentally Mr Hopkins, the far too enthusiastic Gym teacher - had not allowed them a reprieve, saying instead that conditions in their next match may well be just like this, and if they were too weak to get used to it they'd be playing at a disadvantage.

_If one of us gets the flu or gets injured playing in this at practice we'll be at more of a disadvantage! _He flicked his wet hair out of his eyes, trying to see properly as Joshua raced down the pitch towards the goals. _He's going way too fast!_ He noticed suddenly, calling out a warning to his ignorant teammate in alarm. But he was too late.

As Joshua attempted to slow his pace to take a shot, he slipped on the muddy ground and went hurtling towards the edge of the goals. The whole team watched in horror as he tried to grab the outside strut, and only succeeded in swinging himself around 180° and slamming his head hard into the offending beam. He crumpled to the ground clutching at his head as the other boys raced over as fast as they could whilst still being careful not to slip themselves. Jake got to him first and put a hand on his shoulder, unsure what to do next.

"Where's Coach?" he asked worriedly, seeing the blood trickling down Josh's forehead and the skinned palm and fingers of his hand.

"He's gone inside; I think he said something about getting us towels…" Another boy answered, slightly hysterically. Jake swore.

"C'mon mate, let's get you inside then, shall we?"

"NO!" The surrounding team members turned in shock to their newest recruit, who was presently shoving his way to the front of the tight knot.

"What're you talking about Alex? It's freezing out here, he's banged up bad and we need to get him to Coach!" Anxiety and shock made the normally easy-going team captain snap at his friend, glaring menacingly. Alex shook his head, slipping down until he also was kneeling in the mud beside their fallen player.

"Jake, he's cramping up; look!" Sure enough, they could see the spasms wracking Josh's legs. "If we try to move him now we'll just end up doing more damage!" With that he took off the coloured tie from his waist – used to identify players on opposing sides in practice – and took Josh's hand gently. After cleaning the majority of the mud of it as best he could with the soaked hem of his shirt, he gently but firmly began wrapping the still-bleeding appendage, trying to stem the bleeding and insure no more mud could get into the ruptured blisters. That done he turned his attention to his head wound, which was also still bleeding. He carefully probed the area and then placed his hands on each of Josh's cheeks, lifting his head so that they were looking into each other's eyes; neither pupil responded properly to the brightened light of the overcast sky, and this worried Alex a little. He retracted one hand, using the other to keep his friend's decidedly wobbly head in place, and held up three fingers in front of his eyes.

"Josh, how many fingers am I holding up?" The injured boy murmured something, but it was too soft to make out as his eyes slipped slowly closed. "No Josh," Alex said, gently but clearly, "You have to stay awake, ok?"

"… hurts…"

"I know, and we'll get you fixed up soon, but you have to stay awake. Can you do that?" He received a slow nod, and Alex turned to Jake, who was staring at his friend with an unreadable expression. "Jake, can you make sure he stays awake? He's got a concussion, and losing consciousness would be very bad." A nod was all he needed before he turned his ministrations to the still-spasaming legs. He hastily brushed away the hands of the other team members who were about to try to hold them still.

"No, let them move. If we hold him down he'll only tear a muscle or ligament." Instead, he gently placed a hand on each calf and carefully began to massage the muscles to relieve the cramps. After a long moment they stopped jerking, and he finally lay still in the mud and ever-present rain. Just then he heard heavy footfalls approaching and looked up to see Mr Hopkins running towards them, Adam Coots – who must have gone to fetch him – in his wake.

"Why didn't you bring him inside?" he bellowed once he had gotten a look at the injured teen lying in the mud. Alex, noticing a tightening in Josh's right calf, began to lightly massage again.

"He was cramping, Coach." He said evenly, projecting his voice so that he was heard even though he hadn't turned around. "If we'd moved him he would have torn something. He's got ruptured blisters on his left hand where he tried to grab the post, and a pretty severe concussion. The hand I've wrapped, but there's not much I could do for the concussion, except keep him awake. I've massaged the camps out now, too," he rattled off finally relenting in his massaging and moving a hand instead to his brow and pulse. "We need to get him inside, now; he's going into shock and it's freezing out here." He looked expectantly up at his coach, but was met only by an incredulous and slightly impressed stare.

"How on earth did you know to do all that?" Alex sighed and shook his head; now was not the time.

"We really need to get him inside…" This reminder snapped the older man out of his amazed stupor, and he gave a curt nod before bending down and carefully picking up the shivering boy. He swiftly walked back to the gym, where there was a small infirmary for sporting injuries. As he disappeared inside, the boys traipsed into the changing rooms and began to exchange their sodden, muddy gear for warmer, dryer clothes, still shell-shocked by their friend's fall. Alex lingered outside for a moment, wondering whether he should continue helping Mr Hopkins, but through the still-open door he could see that he had the matter very much in-hand. Turning around, he was met with the unwavering gaze of his friend Jake, who was once again wearing an unreadable expression.

"That was some first aid… Where did you learn all that?" Alex cursed himself internally for not paying attention to just how advanced his ministrations were – he had been too preoccupied with helping his friend to notice the stares of his other teammates or the fact that he had just rattled off a diagnosis like a practiced field-medic.

"Survival camp, back in England" he improvised wildly, though of course his face betrayed nothing of the lie. "One of us slipped and got hurt, and I watched the instructor as he took care of it. Guess I just picked up more than I thought…" Jake still looked a little sceptical, but nodded nonetheless and smiled.

"Well, wherever you learned it, I'm glad you did." With that he walked off, leaving a slightly unsettled Alex staring uneasily after him.

* * *

**And that's it for tonight... I really need to get some sleep now. Godnight all, and thak you for all your lovely reviews; keep 'em coming! :)**


	8. School Excursion 2

**School Excursion # 2**

* * *

**Ok, so that idea of updating daily ****_really_**** went down the drain... so, so sorry about that; yr 12 teachers just don't know the meaning of ****_break, _****and the next chapter just ****_did not_**** want to be written! I ended up swapping the order to a slightly more interesting one, so hope you like it! (It's an extra long one to make up for the long wait!) I'm on holidays now, so hopefully i'll be able to udate much more regularly, but don't hold me to that one! :)**

**Just realised I haven't been doing the Disclaimer! oops...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider**

* * *

"And these are replicas of the famous 'Sunflowers' series by Vincent Van Gough. Of course the originals are currently displayed in the Louvre, Paris, and it is known that they were painted during the late 1880s. They are some of the most widely debated Van Goughs in existence, due to their ambiguous…"

Alex stopped listening, unable to feign interest for a moment more, despite his brilliant façade. Indeed, most of his peers had tuned out long ago, instead discretely (or not so discreetly in Toby Williams' case) playing on their phones or holding whispered conversations with each other. Their gallery tour guide continued to drone on, reciting 'interesting' facts about the various artworks displayed and blatantly ignoring the uninterested teens in the way only one used to such treatment could.

To be fair, arranging for the entire year eleven grade to take an excursion to the Art museum for _a whole day_ had not been one of their teachers' smartest ideas – ranking up there with the shooting excursion in Alex's opinion – and the uneventful nature of the seemingly endless tours had understandably left only the most art-obsessed students with any semblance of interest in art, period. Even their escorting teachers, Mrs Timmons and Mr Ryan, had begun a 'discreet' conversation at the back of the group, leaving their slightly manic art teacher, Ms Mandy Sillis, as the tour's sole adult attendee. There weren't even any other people in this part of the gallery; they were all off enjoying the nice day, a luxury denied to the bored students.

Just as their guide had begun to steer them towards the neo-impressionist exhibition, the group was scattered as a terrified man came careering through the gallery screaming hysterically. They looked on, shocked, as two museum attendants came rushing forwards and attempted to quieten the horrified man. Suddenly, one left at a jog, rounding the corner out of their sight and came back moments after, white-faced and shaking. He returned to the other and said something that drained all his companion's colour as well, then pulled out a phone and spoke quickly into it, trying to keep his voice from the growing crowd of curious onlookers.

Suddenly Alex, who had begun scanning the area out of habit at the first sign of trouble, noticed another man, dressed casually enough, wandering in the opposite direction behind the crowd, stowing something in his pocket as he did so. Alex frowned, noting the unusual shape of the object, and began to sidle to the back of the group – which wasn't hard as so many were pushing to get to the front. The man quickened his steps, making for the exit, and Alex followed, making sure to not be seen. He wasn't quite sure why he was doing this; wasn't this exactly the kind of thing that had got him into trouble in the past? So thinking, he abruptly stopped, then turned on his heel and returned to the group, promising himself he wouldn't become _interested_ again.

About five minutes later, after the attendants had cordoned off the area and asked the gathered students to 'wait patiently, there had been an unfortunate accident', three policemen and a man who was obviously the police detective, walked into the room and over to the decidedly frazzled-looking officials. Minutes later, the detective and one policeman split from the others and walked over to the worried group.

"We apologise for the inconvenience, ladies and gentlemen, we should have you out of here shortly. In the meantime, we would like to have a few words with each of you to establish your movements – just routine, you understand. If you would all just wait patiently, we will speak to you all individually." The detective smiled pleasantly as the other man exited the room, returning shortly with his third companion. They took up stances by the door, close to where Alex was standing, to ensure, he assumed, that no one entered or exited. The detective circulated the room slowly, starting with the teachers, and then moving to the students. After the initial excitement had worn off, the teenagers began to grow bored, and whispered conversations began to break out all around the room. Alex just stood quietly watching his peers with interest.

There were some, like him, who seemed to be fairly unruffled by it all, though the occasional twisting of hands and biting of lips gave away their concern. Others were looking white-faced and shocked, lips trembling in obvious emotion. Still others appeared excited by the prospect of a murder in the next room, gossiping wildly. Alex turned to his friends, noting too their own discomfort. Sabina, standing next to him in silence, leaned closer and whispered,

"What do you think happened?" He shrugged.

"I don't know… I did notice a man walking away from the scene when it happened – I followed him." She looked sharply at him, disapproval clear on her face, and he hastened to reassure her. "Don't worry, I didn't go far. I'm not doing that again, believe me…"

"Not doing what again young man?" a voice from behind them asked sharply, and they jumped, Alex cursing himself for forgetting their proximity to the policemen.

"Nothing sir," he said quickly, but he only received a raised eyebrow, "it's just, I saw a man leaving just after it happened, sir, and I think he had a gun." He was careful to keep his voice deferential, knowing any _normal_ teen would in this situation. The policeman frowned, then said,

"Come with me." He walked towards the detective, who by now was quite close to them, and said curtly, "This boy said he saw someone leaving the scene." He turned to Alex, scowling. "Why didn't you say anything to us at once?" Alex shrugged; it honestly hadn't occurred to him – he wasn't used to going to the authorities for help. Unfortunately, this only irritated the man further, and his scowl deepened. "I heard you say something about following this man. That was very foolish of you if he did, as you claim, have a gun." Knowing he had to say something in his defence, as this was rapidly deteriorating into an interrogation despite the warning looks of his superior, Alex opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped from saying anything by the arrival of another man, dressed in a suit and apparently out ranking the others, given their deferential nods at his entrance. He strode quickly towards them, and as he drew nearer Alex felt his stomach plummet. He knew that face. It was Joe Byrne, deputy director for operations in the Covert Action section of the CIA, and a man with whom he'd 'worked' with on three separate occasions. He ducked his head, praying desperately that he wasn't recognised.

"Mr Byrne, sir, what brings you down here?" the detective asked, surprised.

"The case has been transferred to CIA; the victim has been identified. He was a drug dealer by the name of Raul Rosiner, internationally renowned. The man who found him was Carl Whitehouse, the CEO of Whitehouse and co. financiers, and he's kicking up a fuss, so I came down here personally to smooth things over…" He trailed off, apparently having just noticed Alex standing slightly behind the men. His eyes grew wide in recognition, and Alex groaned inwardly, praying he wasn't about to say anything. "Alex?" _And there went that hope…_

"Joe." Alex replied, not bothering with formalities. _Besides,_ he thought, ignoring exactly how petty the thought was, _it's a chance to get back at this idiot. _Byrne's eyes widened further at this, and then he smiled, seemingly catching on to Alex's thoughts.

"You know this boy?" The policeman asked abruptly, eying Alex with renewed interest, though no less distaste.

"Yes, and he's the least likely perpetrator here Adams, so I would suggest you continue your line of questioning elsewhere." Though his tone was civil enough, Alex could hear the subtle warning it held. Adams, however, did not seem that bright.

"All due respect sir, but he was acting mightily suspiciously, said he followed a man from the scene. I'd say he's mixed up in this somehow, and I'd like to know how."

"Thank you Adams, but I think I will continue this line of questioning myself. You can continue with the other students." Finally catching on to the now obvious dismissal Adams bowed his head respectfully and turned to follow his companion away, but not before giving Alex one last venomous look. Once he was out of ear shot, Byrne sighed, and Alex could see now how tired he was looking.

"I don't suppose you do have anything to do with this, do you?" Alex huffed a half-laugh, then sobered, remembering the circumstances of their last meeting.

"No, I'm actually not involved at all this time. Just a school trip, you know; wrong place, wrong time sorta' thing." Byrne looked at him sceptically for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully.

"No, I didn't really think you were involved. Last I heard you'd given up that life… I have to say though (and this really isn't something I thought I'd ever admit), I do feel slightly less at-ease knowing you're not 'out there' anymore…" He shook his head then, seeming to shake off the thoughts, and a small smile reappeared. "No, I'm glad you're not, really… that was no kind of life for a teen. I really must be getting back to my job, though. It was nice seeing you again Alex. Take care of yourself, alright? (And do try not to get mixed up in anything else.)" Alex smiled and nodded, parting ways with the kindly man and returning to Sabina thoughtfully, musing about all the differences between him and Blunt, MI6's one-time head. The two were as different as chalk and cheese; one frosty and manipulative, the other kind and honourable.

"What was that all about?" Sabina asked once he was close enough to hear her whisper.

"That was Joe Byrne, helping me out… again." Sabina smiled bemusedly at his genuinely fond grin, hardly able to reconcile seeing such emotions associated with anything from his past. Noticing her puzzlement, Alex said quietly, "He's alright, better than Blunt, anyway, and he's helped me out a few times before. He was in Cairo when…" He trailed off, still unable to really speak of that time, and Sabina squeezed his hand reassuringly. They remained silent throughout the remainder of the 'ordeal', except to sigh, relieved, when they were finally released home. On the bus ride back to school, Alex noticed that his teachers were fairly quiet, but put it down to their recent brush with murder.

For their part, both Mr Ryan and Mrs Timmons were mulling over the conversation they had 'accidentally' overheard (they weren't trying to eavesdrop, honestly, they had simply been concerned for their student) between Alex and the man who, after subsequent inquiries, they found out to be the head of the CIA, or something. The familiarity with which Alex had addressed Byrne, and the _respect_ he had in turn showed Alex was baffling, not to mention slightly unnerving. And this talk of being involved _this time_ and this _other life_… it only added to the tally of strange things about Alex Pleasure, and the picture both were beginning to form was frightening indeed…

* * *

**So what's this picture I wonder... mwahaha, you'll find out soon enough! :)**

**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers! Keep it up, the comments are ****_fabulous_****! :) Sorry, re-uploaded this to fix some typos :)**


	9. Theories and Supposition

**Theories and Supposition**

* * *

**Hello, sorry for the late update (my muse decided to run sceaming away and has only now diegned to return...). As requested, this one has a bit more dialogue then previous, although it is a little shorter because of this. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

"A gang?"

"No, we've been over this before, Hugo; if he was in a gang there'd be drugs, too, and he really doesn't seem the type."

"Well then," Mr Hugo Ryan continued, a little put out, "what about a stunt-man for television – that would explain the…" he mimed shooting a gun, and Mrs Samantha Timmons shook her head again, smiling a little at her colleague's antics.

"No, that doesn't explain the" she lowered her voice, glancing quickly around – even though there was absolutely no chance of them being overheard, locked in a classroom as they were – and said significantly, "_conversation._"

"Ah"

"What if" here Mrs Timmons perked up, an idea taking root and causing her eyes to flash excitedly, "what if he's really a teenage superspy, and he's saved the world from all kinds of madmen, you know, like a mini-James Bond!" Mr Ryan stared blankly back at her, slightly affronted.

"And yet you reject the idea of a gang… really Samantha, that's just ridiculous! You might as well say that he's an alien from outer-space secretly trying to infiltrate our government to take over the world!" Mrs Timmons gasped dramatically, raising a hand to her mouth delicately.

"That's it! Hugo, you are a genius; he's an alien!" Mr Ryan groaned and slumped, his head resting in his hands, elbows resting on the desk in front of him, as he listened to his excitable friend babble on about the many possibilities of life beyond earth and just how likely it really was that… he tuned out.

"Samantha, back to earth please…"

"Right, yes, sorry." The slightly manic glint left her eyes as she reigned in her highly overactive imagination and returned to what she called her 'responsible teacher persona'. "So, not a drug-dealer, not in a gang, _definitely_ not a spy or an alien… just who is he then?" Mr Ryan, trying valiantly to provide the rationale, said calmly,

"The most plausible situation is that he is the son of some well-to-do English businessman or policeman or something, and that we actually missed the start of _the conversation_ which explained this. It fits the facts."

"But the shooting and the… _other things…?"_

"Hobbies"

"Hmmm, maybe…"

"Although I still think a gang is the most likely explanation" Mrs Timmons huffed, slightly annoyed by his repetitive insistence.

"But he's such a sweet boy; always polite, studious… really Hugo, he just isn't that type of boy."

"If you say so Samantha…" She opened her mouth to argue further but was interrupted by the sounding of the bell, loudly echoing throughout the halls, startling the two. They jumped up and hurried out into the corridor, slightly guilty expressions poorly hidden as they passed said boy returning from the yard and rushed towards the staffroom.

Watching his frazzled teachers exit the classroom (_by themselves_) with guilty expressions and passing his group with heads down as they hurried towards the staffroom, Alex Pleasure smirked knowingly. _Well, that's an interesting development_ he noted, grabbing his books from his locker, not realising he was jumping to precisely the wrong conclusion, much as the two teachers had been doing about him mere moments earlier.

* * *

**Thank you to all my lovely reviewers - keep 'em coming! :)**


	10. School Camp 1

**School Camp #1**

* * *

**I'm not so happy with this one, but oh well... tell me what you think! :) (This one's a two-parter!)**

******Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider**

* * *

_Seriously?_ Alex thought grumpily as he trudged through the trees behind his exhausted classmates, _what is it with teachers and strange, extreme excursions? First we went shooting, then to the most boring museum on the planet, and now we've been dumped who knows where for a _'survival course'. _Ok, so I know what I'm doing and it really isn't that bad, if a bit irritating, but the rest of them…_ He surveyed the rest of this 'red teammates' – the year level had been split into groups of seven, colour-coded, of course – who looked about ready to drop and were complaining loudly. At the front, Jake and Alice were fighting fiercely over the map, and Gene was trying (valiantly but futilely) to mediate. Finally, after another hour or so of trying and failing to drop subtle directive hints, Alex lost his patience.

"Enough," he said, leaving his place at the back of the group and marching crossly to the front where his irritation was further fuelled by the fact that Gene, who was now in possession of the map, was holding said sheet upside-down. "Firstly, Gene, wrong way up. Secondly, if you'd remembered to bring the instructions" he pulled said offending document from his pocket, "you'd remember that we actually don't need to be hiking to China; our first objective was to light a fire. Then we have to make containers and find a water supply to fill them up. So," he looked around at his gobsmacked teammates and sighed, knowing there was no way to back out of being the leader now that he'd taken the position, "how about we start looking for some sticks and stuff to make a fire?"

Glad for a concrete plan, the rest of the group split up almost immediately gathering up everything they could (which, admittedly, wasn't much) and dropping it unceremoniously in a pile close to where Alex was knelt. He deftly arranged the sticks into a pyramid and lit the small fire with the matches he always carried in his pocket, smiling slightly as he remembered pinching some off the fierce Sargent during his 'training' at Brecon Beacons SAS camp.

"Where on earth did you get matches from Alex?" Gene asked amazedly. Alex sighed (yet again) and turned to look up at her. She was the only one who hadn't gone to collect wood (actually she had, but had been quickly sent back by her teammates due to her excessive clumsiness), instead lingering around Alex in the perpetual state of hero-worship to which he was, unfortunately, quickly becoming accustomed.

"I brought them with me, Gene." He tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice, but was only partially successful.

"Oh." He turned back to the fire to ensure that it stayed alight, thinking she would leave him alone, but was quickly disappointed. "But how are they supposed to know that we've made a fire? I mean, it's not like they're here to show, is it? Or are they here, watching us?" On this last she began to look into the trees suspiciously, and Alex bit back a laugh.

"No Gene, they're not watching us. We take a photo with all of us in it, to show them when we get back."

"Oh, ok." Once the photo was taken, courtesy of Jane and her ever-present phone, the group put out the now dwindling fire and made their way to the near-by stream which could be head gurgling through the forest. When they reached it, however, they were disappointed to find that it had carved its way deep into a small, very narrow ravine for quite a way both up and downstream, meaning that, unless they cared to trudge a further few hours, the water was impossible to collect.

"Well, that's it then" Brent said, slumping to the ground in defeat, "even if we could miraculously find something to make a container out of, there's no way in hell we can actually _get_ the water."

"Don't be such a pessimist" Jake admonished lightly cuffing him around the head, "There's plenty of things to make containers out of… right Alex?" Alex turned from his scrutiny of the small ravine and nodded thoughtfully.

"Yeah, see those leaves over there?" he pointed to a small tree that had very wide leaves adorning its small frame, "Well if you fold it like a triangular origami box, making sure not to break it, it will hold water pretty well. There's oil in the leaves that will effectively seal the container if it's tight enough."

"Ooh, I know what you mean!" Alice said, catching on, "I'm in the origami club, so is James; we can make the containers!" Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed a slightly bewildered James' arm and hauled him over to the tree. Jake leaned in to ask Alex,

"We have an origami club?"

"Apparently" he replied absently, turning back to the ravine.

"But we still can't get to the water!" whined Brent, who was really starting to fray already taught nerves.

"Yes, actually, we can" snapped Alex, finally starting to lose his temper.

"How?"

"Like this." Alex walked over to a small sapling, broke off a sturdy-looking branch and placed it carefully across the small space where the stream ran between two large boulders. He then sat on the edge, leaned down and, grabbing the stick, swung down so that he was hanging vertically down into the ravine from the wedged branch. From there it was only a small drop to the muddy ground where he landed in a careful crouch.

"Pass me down a container!" he called up to his gobsmacked group who were by this time all peering down at him amazedly, though he failed to see exactly what was so incredible about his actions (honestly forgetting that most teenagers were not so able to pull off such highly-skilled parkour moves as effortlessly as he just had). Once he had collected two containers' worth and passed them carefully back up to be photographed, he pressed his back to one boulder and his feet to the other, shimmying his way back up to where Jake's arms were waiting to pull him the rest of the way.

Studiously ignoring the adoring stares of Gene, he pulled out their instructions to see, surprisingly, only one more on the list: _return to camp by sundown_. He sighed, glancing up at the sun and seeing that they had roughly two hours to back-track their winding path and find the school's 'base-camp'.

"C'mon, we've got to get back by sundown" he said, showing them the list, and started off through the trees, having thankfully marked their path with crosses carved into trees (partially out of boredom, he had to admit), thinking that at least Gene's pestering questions – 'where did you learn that?', 'That was _amazing!',_ – and the rest of the team's quiet chatter was better than the constant bickering that had marked their previous journey.

* * *

**Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, comments are very much appreciated! :)**


	11. School Camp 2

**School Camp # 2**

* * *

**So terribly sorry for the massive wait for this chapter - life really is a b**** sometimes... **

**Thankyou to ****_Elantania_**** and ****_Eiscream_**** for egging me on to finish this chappie; I couldn't have done it without you! :) Honestly, if I take this long to update again, feel free to stalk and verybally abuse me! ;) Also, thankyou to all my other lovely reviewers who've been sending in some great ideas; keep 'em coming, I live off them! **

**That being said, be prepared for infrequent and sporadic updates - the last year of school is rather hectic and (wipes tear from eye) unfortunately work does come before play... mostely... ;)**

**Well, without further ado... here you go! (It's a nice long one as an apology!)**

******Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider**

* * *

The day was beginning to darken when the "Red Team" eventually found themselves back at the series of small wooden hut that their school ad arranged to use as 'base camp'. The girls – with the exception of Gene, who was _still_ firing off questions and compliments at Alex as though her life depended on it – were tired, and had been complaining of sore feet and messy hair for the last half-hour. The boys – though slightly less vocal – were just as grumpy, trudging along with their heads down and sour expressions. For his part, Alex felt he had done quite well on the trip; he had managed (more or less) to keep the group on-track, with the only draw-back of this being that they had hiked a total of four hours more than necessary and were now thoroughly exhausted. He had also, miraculously, had enough self-control to stop himself exploding at Gene's non-stop hero-worshipping. This, in his opinion, merited a pat on the back – even Alice, normally an exceptionally kind person, would readily admit that 'Ditzy Gene' could sometimes be quite infuriating.

He sighed in uncontrolled relief when he spotted Sabina making her way towards the weary group, teacher in-tow. He sighed again (this time for a different reason) when he identified said teacher as Mrs McKinnon. She was a sour-faced, incredibly strict English teacher whom all of her students detested because she, in turn, detested all of her students; a fact that she made quite clear at the beginning of each year. Alex had, unfortunately, had the misfortune to land in her class when he first began school in America, before he had been transferred up a year to Sabina's classes because of his exceptional mind (stretched beyond normal expectations, no doubt, by his past exploits with MI6). When the two reached the group, Alex noted both Sabina's worried frown and Mrs McKinnon's dissaprovingly pursed lips.

"And where exactly have you lot been all day?" their teacher asked coolly, staring down at them in contempt. Alex – trying to spare his group the embarrassment of explaining that they had 'misread' the instructions – hastily answered.

"We got lost." She merely raised an eyebrow.

"Lost? I would have thought, with your superior intellect in the group Mr Pleasure, that such childish mistakes would have been avoided." She really was quite sore about having Alex moved up a level, taking it as a personal affront that he had been removed from her 'excellent tutelage". She continued after a long pause, in which she took perhaps too much pleasure watching the remainder of the group squirm. "Well, I suggest that you hurry to dinner immediately, if you want to eat anything tonight, as your ineptitude has left you woefully late. You are also on clean-up duty tonight, as a suitable punishment for tardiness." She spun sharply around and walked swiftly over to the other side of the campsite, leaving the group staring miserably behind her.

"Clean-up?" Brent groaned as they wearily made their way towards the campfires strewn about the adjacent clearing where the food was being served. "All I want to do is go straight to bed!" The others grumbled their agreement and fell on the remaining food with gusto, putting it from their minds for a moment in favour of filling their growling stomachs. Alex, however, only picked at his food, feeling Sabina's piercing gaze and knowing he was in for it big time. Sure enough, after a couple of bites, she could wait no longer.

"Why on earth were you out for so long?" she hissed, not loudly enough for the others to hear.

"They forgot the instructions and decided to walk for four hours more than they needed to."

"So? Why didn't you do anything about it?"

"I tried Sab, really, but I might not have said anything for all the good it did; any hints I gave were thoroughly ignored or misunderstood." She arched an eyebrow, somewhat reminiscent of their encounter with Ms McKinnon earlier, but infinitely more chilling.

"Then why didn't you do something more, take control or something? Why let them go hiking around the forest all day if you could help it?"

"I did, eventually, which is the only reason we got back to camp today at all." She snorted.

"You should have done it earlier." Now he was the one to raise his eyebrow in disbelief.

"Sab, you know how easily I slip when I'm leading…" he trailed off, knowing he need say no more. She sighed.

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry. But I was so worried. When you didn't come back for hours I couldn't help thinking something had happened to you. I wanted to go out looking, just in case, but they wouldn't let me, said something like 'they'll be back soon enough, and we don't need another person wandering around out there'". Alex smiled gratefully at her, still slightly astounded at having someone worry about him like this. It was a strange feeling, one he hadn't really appreciated back in England with – no, he wouldn't go down that road tonight, he told himself. There was still too much pain there.

They finished their meal (well, Alex's meal, as Sabina had eaten already) in silence, and she helped him clean up his share of the multitude of plates the others had left lying around before he bid her goodnight and she left to find her own, 'Green', group. He trudged tiredly to his cabin (where they were also to stay in their colour-coded groups) and proceeded to fall exhaustedly into bed, tired not only from the physical exertion of the day which, considering his fitness was not all that significant, but also from the mental strain constant irritation inevitably brought with it. He was asleep well before anyone else in the camp was even contemplating the idea, even his suddenly not-so-tired teammates.

* * *

For their part, the remainder of the red team were feeling much refreshed for having consumed copious amounts of food, and were now regaling their classmates with stories of their adventure – embellished, of course. The only part which they told in complete honesty was Alex's stunt collecting water, which was so impressive it hardly needed improving. Their classmates were sceptical, but accepted Alex's apparent prowess; he did have a tendency to do the unexpected. Soon, the story had spread all over the camp in hushed whispers, staying surprisingly close to the original for gossip.

* * *

Overhearing the excited chatter, Mrs Cordelia McKinnon had huffily left the teens to their gossip and retreated to the teachers' cabin, where she had begun to rant forcefully at the cabin's other two occupants; Mr Ryan and Mrs Timmons, who were the remaining two supervising teachers for this trip.

* * *

"Absolutely ridiculous!" she exclaimed to her bewildered colleagues.

"What?" Asked Mr Ryan wearily, already tired of her constant, and very vocal, dislike of her students.

"The Pleasure boy; there are the most ridiculous stories passing around about what he 'supposedly' did today." The other two perked up at this, eager for another piece of information about the puzzling boy.

"What did he do?" Mrs Timmons asked excitedly.

"Well, according to the members of his group, he swung from a branch into a deep and narrow ravine to collect water before _shimmying_" she said the word with the greatest distain, "back up again. As I said, totally ridiculous." Mr Ryan and Mrs Timmons shared a loaded look, knowing that in all probability this was true. Mrs Timmons, unwilling to simply let Alex be criticised without saying anything, tried,

"It could be true; he does seem to pull some extraordinary stunts now and again…" she trailed off at Cordelia's icy glare.

"No, he couldn't have done it. And even if he did, this just goes to prove what I've been saying all along; he's a 'bad' boy, probably mixed up in something…" she continued to rant for another five minutes, and the other two tuned her out, instead thinking over this new piece of 'evidence' – for they were starting to think of this as a mystery that simply must be solved.

* * *

_He was running through thick mist, terrified that they'd catch him. His lungs were hurting, but he kept running. He couldn't see where he was going but knew he couldn't stop – he couldn't let them find him._

_Suddenly, the mist fell away, and he saw a massive, fiery explosion before him, eating up the car inside it in an instant. He heard laughing ringing in his ears – the laughter of Julius Grief. He spun around in a circle in search of the haunting sound's owner, the explosion blurring into one continuous red and gold line. The line grew brighter and brighter, closing in on him as it did so, until it was nearly touching him – but it did not stop. He tried to move away from it, but it was all around him, getting tighter and tighter until he could barely breathe. _

_The unending white gave way to blackness, and he was falling, tumbling head over heels and spinning so fast he felt sick. He tried to yell out but no sound escaped his lips. He wanted to stop – needed to find his feet again. He looked down, and the explosion was beneath him reaching up to his flailing, falling form with white-hot fingers promising painful death. The heat became unbearable and, just before he was completely consumed; he saw his own face – twisted by Julius Grief's madness – laughing maniacally at his suffering…_

* * *

Alex woke with a violent jerk, biting down on his fist with lightening reflexes to keep from yelling out – as it was a small almost-whimper escaped him. He was panting heavily, as though he had just run a mile, and his sheets were damp with sweat. There were tears streaming down his face as he tried to blink away the image of the burning jeep and his own face twisted in gleeful madness.

Slowly Alex sat up, looking around the cabin to check he hadn't woken any of his classmates, sighing in relief at their obvious oblivion. He crept out of bed and across to the light wooden door, exiting silently onto the veranda. He had to squint for a moment at the full moon's bright illumination. Sliding down a wooden beam to sit, knees drawn up and parallel with the deck's edge, he cast his eyes up to the starry sky and focused on evening out his breath.

* * *

Sometime later, he felt someone walk softly up to him and sit cross-legged perpendicular to him, a feather-light hand on his arm. He tried not to flinch at the touch, but couldn't entirely control the involuntary movement.

"Nightmare?" Sabina's soft voice was a balm to his nerves, and he relaxed into the familiarity of this – by now well practiced – routine. He nodded slowly, not tearing his eyes away from the night sky. "Do you want to talk about it?" They sat in silence for a long moment as Alex pondered this.

"It..." he croaked, cleared his throat, and tried again. "It was the…"

"The explosion?" a quiet question. He nodded, feeling tears prick his eyes again.

"And… him" Sabina's grip tightened on his arm, and her other hand began rubbing his shoulders in a comforting gesture. He turned his head to look at her, the tears falling free from his reddened eyes. "It still haunts me; his face – _my _face – _laughing_ at… at…" he dissolved into quiet sobs, and Sabina pulled his head down to her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Shhh, It's ok, it'll be ok. It hurts – I know it hurts, but you'll get through this. _We'll_ get through this…" She continued whispering consoling nonsense for a long time into the night, until she felt him fall limp in her embrace. He was asleep. She sighed quietly and shifted slightly into a more comfortable position, careful not to wake him.

This had become routine in the months that he'd now been living with her; his nightmares, her comforting, him falling asleep in her arms from exhaustion. They had been getting better, slowly – he no longer woke up screaming – but were by no means banished. Her eyes swam with her own tears as she looked down at the sleeping form of her foster-brother – so strong, yet so broken…

She whipped her head around sharply at the sound of a creaking floorboard behind her, searching the darkness with shrewd eyes, but saw nothing out of place.

* * *

Jake held his breath as he crept back to his bed, hoping not to be caught. _That was too close_ he thought as he climbed carefully under the sheets, _damn floorboard_. He stared up at the ceiling, frowning sadly. _What was that all about? _ He wondered, concerned – and, he had to admit, a little curious – by what he had just seen; Alex _crying_ in Sabina's arms with a familiarity that could only come from routine. Nightmares, explosions, and someone known as him? What did it all mean?_ Just what happened to you in England Alex?_


	12. A Raid a Day keeps Armageddon Away

**A Raid A Day Keeps Armageddon Away  
**

* * *

**Once again, sorry for the delay; I got this up as soon as I could! :)**

**This one is dedicated to Atheriia and worldtravellingfly, whose helpful suggestions were the inspiration for this story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider**

* * *

There were many reasons why Alex Pleasure was not enjoying his day, and all of them were present, in some form or another, at that very moment in the small classroom where he was standing, arms folded defensively with a frown on his face. The virtually sleepless night he had had due to his nightmares was present in the pounding of his headache and the concerned, tired eyes of his foster-sister, Sabina. The growing problem of a suspicious friend was staring distrustfully back at him in the form of his close friend, Jake Langman. The equally watchful stares of his two teachers – Mr Ryan and Mrs Timmons – were testament to their disturbingly enthusiastic curiosity about his private life. However, perhaps the foremost – and most immediately problematic – reason for his bad day was facing him in the form of two scowling police officers, one holding a very sharp Buck model 110 Hunter folding knife.

"Would you care to explain why this knife was found in your locker, young man?" asked the first police officer (a tad taller and older than his colleague) in a very noticeable southern drawl that was laced with condescension. Alex, having decided to dub him 'the Tall One' (unoriginal perhaps, but undeniably truthful) scowled back.

"Because I put it there." Sabina supressed a groan, though she knew she oughtn't to be surprised, really.

"Don't be smart with me boy" the Tall One sneered. He was well used to arrogant teens who thought they were better than others just because they were in a gang or some other such thing. Alex just stared at him.

"I'm not. The knife was in my locker because it's mine and I put it there. I'm not going to bother trying to protest my innocence, there's no point."

"You do know that it's a serious offence to carry weapons in a school?" The shorter, more rotund one – 'the Round One', as Alex soon dubbed him – asked him a little more calmly. Mrs Timmons broke in on Alex's behalf.

"He's only recently arrived here from England, I'm sure he didn't realise…" She trailed off at the Tall One's derisive snort.

"Some excuse that is – it's more of a crime in England than here!" He turned back to Alex, "So, why, knowing it's an offence, did you have a knife in your locker?" Alex sighed – he was trying not to be cocky, he really was, but these idiots…

"I have no valid excuse. Yes, I knew it was an offence, but I put it there anyway. I'm not in the practice of leaving myself unguarded or without sufficient means to defend myself." Alex knew he was pushing it, but the steadily increasing fervour of his headache was impairing his inhibitions – he just wanted this over with so he could take some painkillers and maybe get some rest. The sharp voice of the Round One snapped him back from his wistful reverie.

"What do you mean 'without sufficient means to defend yourself'?"

"Just what I said" Alex was saved the reprimand that was evidently about to escape the Tall One's sneer by the arrival of a third officer – his obvious fresh face and lower rank earned him the title 'the Young One'.

"Sir, we found a suspicious package in another boy's locker." The Tall One spared Alex one last sneer before gesturing imperiously for the Round One to follow him out of the classroom.

"Stay here and make sure no one leaves this room." They heard his command – muffled slightly by the now closed door – and could see the thin form of the Young One as he stationed himself obediently outside the door. There was silence for a moment, as the room's remaining occupants registered this abrupt departure, before Sabina rounded angrily on Alex, momentarily forgetting their companions in her rage.

"A _knife, _Alex? A _knife_? How could you be so _stupid_?" Alex stared defiantly back, but said nothing. "You promised, Alex." He sighed.

"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry. But…" She cut across him, voice now slightly hysterical.

"You just can't stay out of trouble can you? What did you think would happen? Did you honestly think it wouldn't be found at some point? And why the _hell_ aren't you defending yourself?"

"Because there's nothing I can say that will change their minds. To them, I'm guilty – and I am, so there's no point denying it. Besides, it's not like they can do anything to me." Sabina flinched visibly at this and averted her eyes. Alex looked guilty for a moment, before replacing his defiant mask. They were reminded of the presence of the room's other three occupants upon Mr Ryan's awkward cough.

"Would you care to explain, Alex, what this is all about? You aren't one to go breaking rules, so why would you feel the need to have a knife in you locker?"

"And why you feel the need to _defend yourself_?" Mrs Timmons added quickly. Alex looked quickly at Sabina – whose anger seemed to have dissipated somewhat – searching for a plausible excuse. Sabina just stared back at him, with a look that said plainly '_you're they spy'_.

"Ah… Well, when I was in England, I was attacked and… well, I've liked to have a knife handy ever since… just in case." He knew it was a feeble lie at best, and both teachers looked rather sceptical, but once again he was saved from having to expand by the return of the Tall and Round police officers. The latter remained awkwardly just inside the room, whereas the former walked confidently into the room and lent casually – almost too casually – on one of the desks.

"You know, it's funny what silly political schemes can unearth sometimes. When this initiative to randomly search schools was announced a couple of months back there was this great hoo-ha; no one wanted it – d'ya remember Paul?" (So that was the Round One's name!). Paul nodded. "And then we started doing the searches, and found all sorts of teenagers doing naughty things; drugs, weapons, vandalism – you name it, we found it! Just today we've found a boy doing drugs here, at this school. He's up with the head right now, getting expelled." He eyed Alex nastily, "so, how 'bout it? Feel like joining him?"

Alex said nothing, just stared defiantly back. The Tall One sneered (he seemed to particularly favour that facial expression) again and 'Paul' shifted uneasily, obviously seeing the warning signs of one of his colleague's intimidation tactics.

"Oh, I forgot! You'll be joining him whether you want to or not. You've been caught out buddy. Red. Handed." The nasty smile was more disquieting than his sneer, and it seemed Alex was the only one in the room not affected by it. He, seeing Sabina's hard stare, sighed. He really didn't want to cause Liz and Ed any trouble…

"I don't think so" His voice was quiet and amicable, but had an undeniable certainty that startled the others. Sabina slapped her palm to her forehead in exasperation – that was not what she meant. The Tall One leaned forward, sneer firmly back in place.

"Oho, think you'll wriggle out of this one somehow? Well, not on my watch, you won't. Geeze, teenagers – you all think you're superior little bastards, don't you."

"Jay-" Paul's quiet reprimand did nothing to halt the Tall One (Jay)'s rant.

"Y'all think the same – 'I'm invincible, I won't be caught' – but you're wrong. You've just been caught, and you'll not be sliming your way out of this one." Alex raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. He had heard much better rants before, honestly…

"No, that's not what I meant. Look me up." His cryptic statement seemed only to enrage 'Jay' further, but luckily Paul was a little more level-headed, if also annoyed by the boy's cheek. He walked to the desktop computer at the teachers' desk – already on from the previous class – and promptly logged on to the Police database. Jay folded his arms smugly, certain they'd find a large record overflowing with past reprimands and offences.

"Name?" Paul's patience was slowly wearing thin – stuck in a room with the force's most aggressive cop and an aggravatingly impetuous teen, trying to type on a slow computer was _really_ not how he had envisioned his day.

"Alex Pleasure…" Alex hesitated for a moment, shooting Sabina an unsure glance. She closed her eyes and nodded – an exchange that was not lost on the teachers and student behind them. "Née Rider." Paul typed it in, and clicked on the only existing file: ALEX RIDER. He stared at it for a moment, and then looked up at his colleague with wide eyes.

"What?" Jay walked impatiently over and shoved his startled companion to the side. The process repeated itself, except, when finished reading, Jay angrily grabbed his phone from his pocket and jabbed in a number. Mr Ryan and Mrs Timmons watched with confusion as he muttered something, turned back to the computer, exclaimed "WHAT?" loudly, listened for a moment, and then hung up. He turned back to the startled company, evidently seething.

"Right. You can go." He spun on his heel and walked stiffly out the door, followed a moment later by Paul (he methodically logged back out of the database – you can never be too sure, after all). Three pairs of confused eyes turned on Alex, while Sabina groaned from behind him.

"And what exactly was that?" Mrs Timmons raised a startlingly intimidating eyebrow (she wasn't a high school teacher for nothing).

"Ah, nothing… C'mon Sabina, we'd better get going…" Alex grabbed Sabina's hand and left the classroom swiftly, picking up the offending knife as he passed – no one had noticed as Paul unobtrusively placed it on the corner of the desk upon his departure. Mr Ryan and Mrs Timmons shared a bewildered glance and hurried out of the room after the two teens, but found they had already disappeared.

"I think some tea would do us both some good, don't you Hugo?" Mrs Timmons said in a slightly shaky voice.

"Yes, yes I think that might be quite nice…" They departed for the staffroom slowly, still unable to fully comprehend the strange events.

* * *

Jake, left alone in the classroom, moved to sit at a desk on unsteady legs, reeling from the afternoon's revelations. He had not said a word during the whole ordeal; had just watched from the background as Alex's locker had been searched and the knife had been found. He had been standing next to him, talking about soccer when it had happened, and had been rounded up as well – 'guilty by association' or something. But in saying nothing and just watching, he had been able to observe Alex like no other; and what he'd seen had been unnerving at best.

Trying to make sense of his observations, Jake grabbed a crumpled piece of paper (unfinished maths homework) from his pocket and a pen (left on the desk next to him), and began to make a list.

**1.** Alex owns a knife.

**2.** He keeps it in his locker.

**3.** Alex wasn't concerned about being found out.

**4.** Sabina was.

**5.** Alex seemed unfazed by 'Jay's' intimidation.

**6.** Alex has a file on the police database.

**7.** There is something unusual on this file.

**8.** This something got the police off his back.

**9.** Alex knew it would.

**10.** Alex handled the knife easily (too easily).

It was quite a list, and Jake looked at it for some time, biting his lip.

**11.** Alex has nightmares (bad ones)

**12.** These involve a 'him', and explosion, and his face (somehow)

**13.** Alex changed his name from Rider to Pleasure – adoption?

An idea was beginning to form in his mind – an idea that he really didn't like – but the more he thought, the more he was beginning to realise that he didn't know Alex Pleasure (née Rider) quite as much as he thought. Something had obviously happened to him in England (not an attack; that much was fairly obvious) which meant he felt the need to carry a knife – and gave him nightmares – and Sabina obviously knew what it was. Sabina knowing was in his favour, as Jake knew she was an alright girl; for that matter so was Alex, as far as he knew. But nevertheless, he resolved to keep a closer eye on his 'friend' after this.

* * *

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews! As I said above, it's your ideas that keep me writing! :)**


End file.
